


Pain Demands To Be Felt...But So Does Love

by writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Catholic Guilt, Dubious Morality, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Oops, Priest Kink, Priests, Religious Conflict, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Resolved Sexual Tension, Role Reversal, ish, mary lou is still a bitch forever and ever amen, priest!Percival, reverse dynamic, sinner!Credence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:49:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8850883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: Father Graves hasn't always been a perfect man of virtue, and he's in serious danger of failing his latest try at being a better person, a person all for God. But it's in the name of something just as good and true as the Lord's work. Saving a life.On Earth.





	

**Author's Note:**

> waaahaaaa here i am with more priest!kink and zero chill and STILL NO MERMAID AU PART 2 sorry that may actually never happen oops although i did START chapter 2 i swear.
> 
>  
> 
> anyway, credence didn't get to come in the alleyway so here in this AU he's first oops.
> 
>  
> 
> also im sorry for all the religious bullshit and inaccuracies. this is just for sinning. please dont sic the Pope on me.

~~_(ignore my shitty graphic that inspired the whole mess)_ ~~

* * *

 

Credence Barebone had been attending church from a very young age, some might even say most of his life, but one only needed to consider his background, and it made sense.

He had a lot to atone for.

Born of a woman called a witch by many, he was fighting an uphill battle.

Giving into sin and only pretending to care about the Lord was an easy conclusion, but he did take almost a decade to realize he’d been disillusioned for a while and had merely tried to ignore it until he no longer could.

There had been a catalyst to it all, and his name was Percival Graves, or better known to the parishioners as Father Graves.

Credence had noticed him on the first day he’d attended, freshly adopted into the hell house that was the Barebone residence, the tender age of ten, and he didn’t even know or remember what his last name had been before that. Maybe he hadn’t had one.

Father Graves had been very new to the church, and his arrival caused a bit of a tizzy among the female population of the town, not just the church itself, and Credence had been amused to watch it.

Until they remembered themselves, and the fact that he was more than off limits, he was forbidden to them. He’d chosen a life of celibacy, which although noble, was a bit selfish, Credence thought, after a few years of seeing him.

What could be more joyful and celebrating of life than to share love with another human being?

Not that he really had a good understanding of love, for all he’d ever known was pain at the hand of his _‘loved’_ ones.

Mistakes led to punishment, and obedience led to kind words, but no physical contact that could be called positive.

He couldn’t believe there was truly a God in charge of all who let those sorts of things occur, and even when it wasn’t him facing the prospect of the belt, and it was one of his younger step sisters, he still wanted to stop it.

He couldn’t.

It just led to more beatings, countless hits he had to _count_ to ensure they properly made an impact. Never mind the fact that he had scars to remind him at every turn. He grew sick of seeing himself in the mirror and seeing how hideous his back had become, to say nothing of his hands.

Praying was the best part of his life, because it meant he could close his eyes and pretend there was nothing marring his skin, just the potential overwhelming and all consuming love from God.

But even He had abandoned Credence.

All that was before realizing that maybe he wasn’t even listening.

The only time Credence felt truly heard and even cared for, was during confession.

It was only once a week, and so he had to resort to writing down every time he earned a beating, to ask for forgiveness and properly seek penance.

His not mother would always ask him how it had gone, and if Father Graves had said anything to him, for her.

He wanted to laugh in her face. A hag like her? What would a beautiful soul like Father Percival Graves have to say to her that wasn’t a personal insult and rebuke from the lord?

But of course Father Graves was kind, kinder than Credence ever was inside his own head, and he did say things, complimenting their family, hoping his siblings were well.

Credence always lied to his not mother.

“He didn’t. He signed my paper.”

“Good.”

The sins he’d been punished for once, and confessed, usually were filed away, somewhere his not mother could stare at them and feel accomplished and like a good parent.

Also, Credence suspected she enjoyed admiring Father Graves’ signature.

He wrote with an elegant and practiced hand, and Credence burned with envy.

Of course, it wasn’t the first time he’d been envious of the man. Nor the first time he’d let his thoughts dwell on the man, and realized just how sinful he still was, though outwardly repentant and broken for God.

*

The years passed slowly, but they were fruitful. Seeing the congregation grow and the children become future speakers of the truth was always something that brought Percy a swell of pride. Before praying and passing it on to the Lord, for it would be a sin to simply relish and keep the pride to himself.

He would be able to move on and start his own parish soon enough, when the deacons deemed him ready. The trial period had long ended, and he was not just an interning Priest anymore. He almost felt a bit overprotective of the people, now that he had been the lone preacher for so long, but any sort of serious attachment would have to be prayed about, and passed off, out of his hands.

It was far too dangerous to allow himself to be ruled by emotions, no matter how pure the intentions might have been.

There was a knock at his office door, and he looked up from the blank paper he’d been staring at for over a minute. His letter of request for transference. He’d been stuck on how to even begin.

He hated asking for things.

“Come in!”

The door cracked open just a bit, enough for a young man to stick his head inside, and Percy instantly recognized him. He’d been attending longer than Percy had been teaching, with his entire family usually, but he had been the only boy, or young man now, the only member of his family to ever attend confession after the sermons.

“Credence right?” The young man nodded, a hint of a smile quirking his lips. Percy continued,

“What can I do for you today?”

Credence crept closer, further inside the office,

“I just need a signature Father, I forgot to ask you earlier, but I can’t take this home without one.”

Percy blinked over at him, and then nodded at once, beckoning him forward.

“Of course. I should have known. I was a bit frazzled, mind elsewhere this morning, I apologize.”

Credence shook his head, sending his dark hair shifting across his forehead. It was one of the least flattering haircuts he could have been given, yet somehow it didn’t detract from his face, merely enhanced it.

Percy looked down at the paper the young man was holding out to him and instantly tried to put a stopper in that line of thought.

Improper and wicked.

He accepted the slip of paper and reached for a pen, but before he could sign it, his eyes glazed over the scribbles near the top half of it, possibly written in Credence’s hand, and his eyes widened at some of the things listed.

‘-forgot to say good morning – Monday’

‘-waited five minutes to do dishes after lunch – Tuesday’

‘-neglected iron, scorched Modesty’s blouse – Thursday’

‘-didn’t wait long enough after evening prayer to eat - Friday’

 

Before he could read anymore, Credence was snatching the paper away from his hand,

“Oops, that’s the wrong side. Here.”

Percy looked up at the young man and caught the tail end of a blush in his cheeks, along with a gaze that seemed to skitter away from his own, as if afraid to admit what he’d just seen.

The page was blank now, but for the light blue lines, and he held the pen over the page so long it started to leave a black blob of ink.

“Credence… what is this? What have I been signing for the last five years?”

Credence blinked, wide eyed, trying to play innocent, but Percy knew a lie when he saw it, or heard it, or could read it on someone’s face.

His hands were shaky, and as he pressed them together in front of his chest, Percy could see white silver marks, like _scars_ , on the back of his hands, wrapping around all the way to his palms.

“Just my weekly sins. Mother likes to know I’ve repented for them properly.”

Percy felt something like white hot anger blossoming up inside of him, at what the young man was saying, and what he wasn’t.

It was obvious, so _painfully_ obvious, to anyone who spared more than a cursory glance at the Barebone children that they were living under a dark cloud, a shadow, of abuse.

If it couldn’t be proven, nothing could be done for it.

Percy knew that better than most, having broken up several families for the greater good, watched as children finally found a home that could be called loving, and not just in appearance.

It had been a long time since he’d done such a thing, and he’d become a priest mainly to atone for the times he couldn’t help, back when he’d been in another profession entirely, one not without god, but much less religious.

“Give me your hand.”

Credence didn’t quite shake his head, but he did flinch away, just minutely, and Percy sighed, his eyes falling shut, and head dropping into the hand not holding the pen.

“God give me strength.” He murmured, mostly to himself.

“I think I should go. My mother will understand if you were busy, couldn’t spare a moment to sign…”

The young man’s hand shot out again, across the desk between them and yanked the paper back so fast Percy didn’t even know what had happened until his office door was slamming shut.

*

Credence couldn’t believe what he’d done.

Run away from Father Graves, who had seemed earnest about showing him some kindness. But all in the name of being a good Priest, a proper man of God.

Not like he actually cared.

Not the way Credence did for him.

The way that had him soaked in sweat after waking up every morning, and never touching the hot water side of the shower knob. Frantically digging his nails into his palms until they bled and made new scars when he got into his side of the confession booth and spouted nonsense just to get the chance to hear the low soothing voice of the Father to tell him what he needed to do.

Many times he’d pretended that he was ordering Credence to do things because _he_ wanted him to, not because God _required_ it of him.

 It had only been within the last six months he’d decided to fuck it all, and stopped caring about what God thought he wanted or deserved from him, and started to live for only for himself.

As soon as he could, he had planned to run away from the hell house, and do whatever it would take to find someplace relatively safe to stay.

He knew it was likely he’d need to resort to using his body, but at that point, he didn’t care.

It was like there was an entity inside of him, begging to break free, what his not mother would have called a demon, he wondered if it was something simpler, like his true soul.

The feelings he had begun to have to fight off had begun when he’d turned fifteen and only increased in intensity during the past three years. They hadn’t ever made any of the lists, because Credence wasn’t sure he could dare to face Father Graves if he saw the true depths of his depravity.

His not mother had stopped asking what he was thinking when he looked at the books she’d given him, hoping to encourage him to think of light, of proper things, of love stories with a man and a woman, and how he could someday start his own family with a godly woman.

He didn’t want to.

Not after what he’d seen families meant.

He never wanted any part of it.

Now, finding someone to share his life with, to be his other half in mind and soul… that he could consider.

But it wouldn’t be with a woman.

If he was honest with himself, it never could be. The only person in the world that he knew that he wanted was a man.

Father Percival Graves.

The only man he could never have.

However, he could still try.

He’d never tried to seduce anyone before, never wanted to. But now, he had nothing to lose.

In the eyes of the state of New York, he was definitively an adult, and could leave his hell house anytime he wanted. Getting his sisters out first was his main priority.

How to go about asking if they wanted to, without being in danger of his not mother finding out what he was even planning was a harder thing to consider.

Father Graves was really the best chance he had. The only adult he could trust.

The plan was thusly, get his help, and then seduce him.

But things rarely went according to plan for Credence.

*

There he was again.

Dark haired and looking like death itself was chasing him.

How often did that monster feed her children anyway?

Not enough, clearly.

In the almost ten years Percy had been serving the congregation, he had watched the boy become a man, but stilted somewhat, by his family, no doubt.

He was no longer a waif, more like a specter.

He reminded Percy of what a fallen angel might look like, if humans could be able to gaze upon such creatures.

Not that he had ever entertained any sort of immoral or improper thoughts of the young man.

Never. Always he had prayed, asked for them to be taken from him, wiped from his mind.

In all those years, he’d wanted to do more than just be a bystander, wanted to help. Now, after the last weeks encounter, the sight of scars and wounds that had not been accidentally inflicted, he knew he would have to.

Percy made it through his sermon and watched as nearly everyone filed out, leaving Credence, a lone figure standing and slowly walking towards the confessional hall.

He looked painfully thin.

Percy wanted to take him somewhere, gift him with a proper meal, and then somehow gather enough evidence to free all three of those sad faced children from the pale faced witch’s grasp. But that wasn’t his job anymore.

Entering the booth, he could see Credence hunched up against himself, as if trying to shrink away into nothingness. He might just become that if he stayed where he was much longer.

It made Percy flushed with righteous anger at the thought. It was child abuse, plain and simple, even before getting to the undeserved punishment for menial mistakes.

“Begin whenever you are ready.”

He tried not to keep looking over at the young man, but he couldn’t help it really. He was just _concerned_ , that was all. Nothing else.

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.”

“Tell me your sins.”

He could hear Credence dragging in a slow breath, and the next words that left his mouth stunned him.

“You come to me in dreams, and lure me into temptation. I think… I should think, you owe me an apology for such transgressions…”

Percy sat frozen for about half a minute, and the silence began to drag out, twisting and turning into something sordid, as if trying to choke him.

He could see Credence staring back at him, and his heart skipped a beat.

His dark eyes were steady, and his throat didn’t move, as if he was holding his breath, awaiting Percy’s reply.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

Percy couldn’t help wondering if he’d managed to fall asleep in the booth, and was now just imagining things.

He hadn’t looked away from Credence, so it was a very lucid dream, if that.

“I … uh … I meant only that you are causing me to sin. I wanted to tell you. I’ve been hiding it for months.”

Percy glanced away from the young man’s eyes to where he was pressing his hands in his lap, and he saw no bible, or even the usual scrap of paper, listing out his sins, instead he thought he saw a lump in his pants, and a jolt of heat shot down his spine, as he forced himself to instantly look away.

 _‘Get a grip!’_ Percy thought to himself furiously.

He was just encouraging that sort of thing by not chastising the young man.

“You know I cannot control your thoughts, much less your dreams. So you can hardly blame me for what you see at night when you close your eyes.”

Not that Credence was difficult to look at himself. Percy knew, were he not in the line of work he was, it would be easy to develop feelings for the young man.

But it was wrong as he had been in the past; all that mattered now was where he was in his life.

He’d left a life of sin behind.

All he could know now was penance.

“Maybe I want you to.”

Percy jerked up right, as if he’d drifted off again, and he looked over at the young man, who was watching him intently through the screen still,

“What do you want me to do? Control your thoughts?”

“No. Just me.”

Electricity seemed to zip through his veins at such a forbidden declaration, and as Percy watched, the young man got up from his seat and began to step out of the booth, and he was at a loss for words.

Until the side of his booth opened and he was suddenly in front of Percy, wide eyed and looking almost dangerous.

“Father, you’re in my very soul, torturing me with these thoughts, and there’s no way to remove them, not without some kind of divine intervention.”

Percy considered holding out his bible, trying to argue that whatever was happening wasn’t good for them, for either of them, but if God wasn’t about to step in and stop Credence, maybe it was his will for it to happen.

“Okay, tell me how I can help you.”

“Just hold still.”

Credence surged forward, hands grasping the sides of his face, and pressing his lips to Percy’s in a desperate manner, kissing him like he was the last drop of water in a desert and he was dying of thirst.

It only took a moment for Percy to catch up, and he was dropping his bible and wrapping his arms around the younger man, holding him closer, so close, he could feel his thin body almost shaking.

“What’s wrong?”

Credence was fighting for breath, and Percy felt a bit like he was in danger of bursting into flames.

“I thought you would stop me, say no, anything. But you didn’t.”

It’s sinful. It’s wrong.

He should put a stop to it all right there, but Percy couldn’t.

Despite all the reasons screaming at him to do just that, he could almost _sense_ how safe Credence felt in his arms, and he would not be the one to take that away.

*

Credence was dying, he had to be. There was no other explanation for it.

Father Graves had looked at him, stunned, for a moment, and then when Credence had done it, had pulled the virtual trigger and gone in for the kill, he’d been _allowed_ to.

The man tasted like Heaven ought to. Like sunshine and roses, and maybe mint from his chap stick. Credence wasn’t sure, but he wanted to drown in it. Never stop kissing the man.

But he had to.

He couldn’t help it. The shakes overpowered him, and tears stung in his eyes.

Father Graves could save him, but not from hell. Just from his family.

“I know it’s hard for you to admit, but you need a safe place to be. Church isn’t that. You need somewhere to stay?”

Credence found himself nodding before he could help it, and Father Graves was reaching out, touching his face, stroking his cheek, so gentle, so soft.

“You can stay with me as long as you need to.”

“What about my sisters?”

Credence bit his lip, and looked at Father Graves, who sighed,

“I can’t do anything for them without sufficient evidence of neglect or harm. You… you’re an adult, so you can freely leave.”

Credence cursed low under his breath.

He knew that.

He just hated hearing it said aloud and confirmed.

But the prospect of going to Father Graves’ home with him, even temporarily was extremely intriguing, alluring almost.

“It’ll be okay. We’ll make it work.”

Credence nodded again, and Father Graves dropped his hand,

“You should go, back to the main hall. Wait for me; I’ll come get you when it’s time to leave.”

“Okay.”

“What will happen when you don’t come home tonight?”

Credence shrugged,

“I was always the one who got the most punishment, that’s all she’ll miss.”

Father Graves was gritting his teeth, Credence could see it.

“Okay.”

 

It felt like no time at all until Father Graves returned to his side, but perhaps it was because Credence was lost in some kind of haze, too shocked to comprehend what was happening.

He was doing it. He was leaving the hell house.

Going to stay with someone he could trust.

Who he might even…

Father Graves was telling him where the kitchen was, the bathroom, the hall that led to his guest room.

“For as long as you want. Honestly. I haven’t had company in, well, since college, so I don’t mind it really.”

“Did you go to a seminary school or a regular school?”

Credence couldn’t help asking, rude as it was.

Father Graves looked over at him with a smile,

“It was a regular college. Full of partying and laziness. I only became a priest recently. Well, within the last ten years. But you know that.”

Credence blinked, and Father Graves started shucking off his robes, revealing a plain black vee neck shirt beneath, with grey pants and his usual black leather shoes.

“Um… what did you do before?”

Father Graves shrugged,

“Not anything special. Nothing with medicine or science. Sort of worked at a few internships, and then got into the Child Protective Services.”

Credence felt his blood go cold, even as his cheeks were warm from staring at the newly exposed bits of skin belonging to the man he’d never dreamed he would be able to see.

“So you know… what I’ve been living through.”

Father Graves nodded, and walked over to him, poised to put his hands on him again, and Credence fought with himself, to not lean into the touch.

He did anyway.

“I am so sorry I couldn’t help you sooner. I really am.”

“Father, I don’t know-“

The man was shaking his head,

“Please, call me Percy. Here, I’m just Percy.”

“Okay.”

Percy smiled at him, sadly, but with such kindness shining through his eyes, Credence thought he might pass out.

Or maybe it was the hunger.

Either way, his vision went black, and he felt the ground rise up to meet him.

*

“ _Shit._ ”

Percy was close enough to catch him easily enough, but it still made him panic, seeing Credence’s eyes roll back into his head before his body went limp in his arms.

He carried him over to the closest flat surface, which happened to be his couch, and carefully laid him down on it, before going to pour him a glass of water.

He hoped it would help.

Holding Credence’s head up, he tipped the glass towards his lips, slowly, so as not to accidentally drown him.

Credence stirred, slightly, and then he sat up all the way, nearly throwing Percy off his knees and backwards, water going everywhere.

“Oh my god. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Percy was still concerned,

“What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well? Headache or pain anywhere?”

Credence was bringing a hand to his stomach, and wincing,

“It’s just been since Thursday since I ate, that’s all.”

Percy got to his feet so fast to loom over him, he could see Credence flinching back, and he regretted it instantly, but spoke no less harshly, not at him, but rather, his horrible mother,

“That’s barbaric. What do you want? Anything at all, I’ll order it. You could die from going that long without eating.”

Credence was shaking his head,

“I have water. I have the sink to drink out of. It’s not that bad.”

Percy could see the truth in his eyes, and it was all he had to keep from going on a rampage, the likes of which he hadn’t done since giving up alcohol, and becoming a priest.

Well.

Considering the day’s events, he’d pretty much tossed that career out the window, as it was, he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Ending human suffering could be done outside the church.

“You’re going to eat something, and you’re going to eat right now. I’ll cook you some eggs and toast. But I’ll order a pizza too. Carbs. Meat. Cheese. Building blocks of life.”

He tried to smile, and Credence was nodding.

“Okay.”

He brought a hand up to stroke the young man’s cheek, and then turned away, left him on the couch, until he reached the kitchen and realized he was half soaked. Of course Credence had gotten the worst of it.

The water glass.

 _‘Good job Percy.’_ He thought to himself.

“Here… wait there.”

As if the young man was going anywhere. Percy rolled his eyes at his own stupidity and hurried down the hall to his room, plucking up a spare shirt, and then returning to the living room.

“Try that on. Sorry about that.”

“No, it’s my fault.”

Percy sighed,

“Credence, you need to stop this. You have done nothing wrong, ever. That I can see. Other than put up with a horrible monster who deserves jail for what she’s done.”

He turned away, trying not to watch as Credence pulled off his dampened shirt, threadbare and so worn the water had made the fabric almost translucent on his skin, and when he looked back, the young man was wearing his shirt.

Fondness welled up inside him, and he moved to collect the wet shirt,

“I’ll put it in the dryer; it’ll be ready in no time. You can keep that, sleep in it later if you’d like.”

Percy went back to the kitchen, to hurry through preparations for food, which Credence needed immediately, lest he pass out again and so he missed the way the young man looked down at himself, and touched the shirt like it was made out of something precious.

He watched Credence as he ate, telling him to be careful, not to go too fast so he wouldn’t get sick, and he barely even heard the doorbell ring when the pizza had arrived.

Credence was so beautiful; it was almost painful to see him hurting as he was. He deserved to be taken care of, to be treated with gentleness, and be let out into the world to spread the pure light that shined out from his eyes.

By the time it was late enough for Percy to be yawning, Credence was fast asleep himself. They had moved to the couch after eating, with Credence leaning against Percy’s shoulder. He almost didn’t want to wake him. But he did so as tenderly as he could, one hand brushing against the younger man’s cheek, causing him to stir, to blink and look around with mild confusion before focusing on Percy’s face.

“Come on, bedtime.”

He helped Credence to his feet, and started to walk him towards the guest room, but the young man was shaking his head,

“What’s wrong?”

“Can’t go in there. Can’t have those dreams again. Too embarrassing.”

Now Percy was the one who was confused.

“So you don’t want to sleep alone, but you don’t want to dream about me? You know, this is a bad idea, right?”

Credence’s arm tightened around his neck, where he was sort of hanging on him as he helped him walk,

“I don’t want to be alone. That’s all I know.”

“Okay.”

Percy wasn’t going to fight him off, much as he was supposed to be more responsible, he was also afraid of himself. The last thing he wanted was for the younger man not to feel safe in his care, so he helped Credence into his bed, tucked him in, and then moved to change into a pair of shorts and a shirt, which he’d been without since the water incident.

Oops.

When he finally climbed into bed, he was going to try and keep his distance, but the second he stopped moving, settled into his side of the bed, Credence was shifting over, putting an arm over his chest, and nuzzling against his side.

Shock kept him still for a moment, and then he brought a hand over to wrap around the younger man’s back, gripping his shoulder gently,

“Comfortable?”

Credence nodded,

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

Credence looked up at him, and Percy thought he could hear his heart grind to a halt,

“For saving me.”

“Of course.”

His other hand came up, almost automatically, and he cupped Credence’s cheek in his hand, thumb brushing over his cheekbone,

“Mister Graves?”

“ _Percy_ …. please.”

“You’re like an Angel, you know?”

Percy shook his head, shifting so that he was able to guide Credence up closer, until he was almost leaning over him.

“I don’t think so.”

That kiss was slower than the first, less hurried, and still just as achingly sweet.

It had been over a decade before that day for Percy, and though he’d been okay with it for that long, it was like those years of bottled up feelings were unleashed, just for Credence.

No one was more like an angel to _him_ than the wounded creature in his arms.

“I’m sorry; I shouldn’t be trying to take advantage of you.”

Percy broke the kiss, trying to catch his breath, pressing his forehead against Credence’s, who shook his head,

“No. You’re not taking anything I don’t want to give. I’ve never had the choice before. I want to. I want you to have me.”

Percy gritted his teeth together and shook his head,

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I think I do. I’m not drunk. Just not starving, for the first time in forever.”

Credence’s arm over his chest had moved, and his hand was drifting down, brushing over his groin, over his shamefully hard cock almost tenting his sleep shorts.

His head fell back against the pillows and he groaned aloud.

“You’re going to kill me, you know that?”

“I hope not. Am I hurting you?”

Percy shook his head,

“Not at all. Quite the opposite. Are you sure you want to do this right now?”

Credence was biting his lip, looking utterly delicious.

“If you want, it’s all I’ve dreamed of, for so long.”

“ _This_ is what we do in your dreams?”

Percy was panting already, just from a hand on his cock over a thin layer of fabric, and Credence was nodding, beaming almost.

“Usually in the confessional booth, but yeah.”

Percy groaned again,

“Okay, that’s justification enough for another kiss.”

Credence was still smiling when he leaned in to do just that, and Percy fought the urge to buck up into his hand.

It just felt so good.

*

Credence could hardly believe what was happening, and it was too much like a dream, but for how incredible he was feeling, and he could see that Percy was enjoying it just the same. In fact, he had more than enough proof, with the man’s cock in his hand, fingers curled around it, feeling his skin almost feverishly warm, and the kiss grew more intense the harder he touched him.

He was getting hard himself, almost rutting against Percy’s hip, and he could only hope he was distracting him enough to keep him from noticing.

“Mmm you don’t have to do anything you know, I’m okay with just this.”

Percy was saying, his hand still firm but gentle on Credence’s face.

“It’s okay.”

For all the reasons it wasn’t, Percy had to look into those dark eyes, and say no. No it wasn’t all right. He deserved to be the one worshipped for once, and so he would be.

Percy leaned up to kiss him again, fierce and desperate, and then manipulated their bodies so that he was now on top, and he ignored Credence’s gasp of surprise, instead, pulling up his shirt, actually _his,_ and began kissing every inch of bare skin he could see, until he reached the edge of the younger man’s pants, and he pressed a gentle kiss below his navel,

“Let me. Please.”

Credence let out a slow sigh, and then nodded. Percy could feel his pulse leaping underneath his touch as he tugged down his pants, and once they were out of the way, Credence’s cock sprung free, and Percy thought maybe, just maybe, he’d done enough good to deserve it.

Placing his lips on the soft skin didn’t require a second thought, and the noises Credence began to emit were addictive.

Putting the tip of the younger man’s cock on his tongue felt as routine as taking communion, but now, it finally had purpose.

One of Credence’s hands found its way into his hair, and he smiled, as best he could, around the gorgeous cock in his mouth, and continued to work him over, hands touching whatever his mouth couldn’t handle.

The second Credence’s hips started thrusting upwards and he was truly whimpering, Percy didn’t even stop or slow down, he made his pace relentless, and only paused to look up and see the look on the younger man’s face when he began to come.

Not quite like seeing the face of God, but just as breathtaking.

He tasted like salvation ought to feel.

Percy was kissing the inside of his thigh, careful not to keep touching him past the oversensitivity threshold, and then Credence’s hands were gripping his shoulders, pulling, needing, begging him to come back up and kiss him.

He tried not to ogle his body too much, for though he was pale and thin, there were numerous scars he could see, some in different degrees of healing, and he knew anger at that would do them no good.

He would try and wash them tomorrow, bandage as needed, no matter how Credence protested.

“Thank you.”

The words were a whispered gasp, and Percy smiled, kissing him sweetly as he could,

“You’re so welcome.”

“But what about you?”

Percy laughed a bit nervously,

“Who me? I’m a bit embarrassed; I think making you come was enough for me, after so long. No need to worry. I just better change my shorts. You want to stay in my shirt?”

Credence nodded, a somewhat giddy grin quirking his lips.

“Yes please. But I don’t need my pants.”

Well okay then.

Percy helped tug them off the rest of the way and tossed them aside, along with his shorts, and then Credence curled back against his side, preventing him from leaving.

“But I need another pair…”

“No, stay.”

Credence pressed a kiss to his shoulder and his arms tightened around his abdomen.

“Okay.”

He couldn’t really refuse anything that Credence wanted. He didn’t want to either.

*

Falling back into sin for the Priest seemed to be an easy enough thing, Credence thought. Maybe because he was just so good at seducing him, but probably not just that.

He was smiling as he woke up beside him, or rather, curved into him, with Percy pressed almost flush to his back, one arm around his waist and the other braced beneath his pillow, hand just visible beyond the fluff of the case fabric.

He hummed contently, even as guilt twinged inside of him, for what he’d done. He wasn’t abandoning his sisters, not forever. Just until he could do more.

Get real help to get them out.

“Good morning.”

Percy’s voice was almost a growl, and Credence instantly felt his mind go blank, for only one thing, the lust currently swirling through his veins.

“Hi.”

Lips were already pressing against his bare neck and he could sense that it was over one of his scars. Some of them stretched from his back to his shoulders and beyond, but never so high a collar couldn’t hide them. Percy’s shirt had no collar.

“Sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

Now Percy was tracing a hand up the side of his hip, drawing up his shirt, and Credence felt himself begin to shake again,

“For being so ugly.”

Percy’s hand suddenly tightened on his skin, fingers gripping so hard he could almost relish the pain,

“No. You aren’t.”

Credence sighed. He knew it was a lie, but it felt good to say. Felt good to deny himself.

Especially after all he’d done.

“You’re incredible; you know that… you must believe me when I say it.”

Percy’s other hand was moving, shifting to grasp his chin, turning him and forcing him to look at the man,

“Please?”

Credence couldn’t say no to that.

“Okay. Thank you.”

Percy was smiling, somewhat sadly, but when he cupped Credence’s cheek and drew him in for a slow and soft ‘good morning’ kiss, he followed willingly, bones almost turning to mush.

It felt almost magical, and he wanted to wake up like that every morning.

*

 

**Author's Note:**

> also yes i used the whole, water in a desert cliche, because Ezra said thats what graves was to credence. #dynamicflipbitch.
> 
>  
> 
> have you guys spotted my cliche/callsign yet? lmao.


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